I'm A High Functioning Sociopath, Merry Christmas!
by we don't need names
Summary: Sherlock's first Christmas home after the fall and Mummy wants all of his friends to stay over for the holidays... This should be fun. Eventual Sherlolly. John/Mary.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a Sherlock story but I feel like it should be promising. I am addicted to the show and Sherlock is such an amazing complex and dynamic character I hope I can do him justice. Let me know what you think!**

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"John!... John?" The detective yelled while barreling up the stairs of 221B Baker Street. He burst through the door and spun in a circle, lost in the chaos of his mind palace so much so that John could practically see the detective's thoughts spinning about his head. "I've got it John, don't you see?" He shouted waving his arms about like the madman he truly is.

John sat comfortably in his arm chair staring at his best friend with an increasing amount of impatience. "Clearly not. Care to elaborate?" John replied, annoyed. He put the paper he was reading next to the cuppa Mrs. Hudson made him not twenty minutes ago. Sherlock was still pacing the flat with his eyes closed, swatting unnecessary thoughts awake when his eyes snapped open again.

"How would she have known where to find his body if she hadn't talked to her husband in over three months. She claimed they had no contact but that was a lie. I assumed she was covering up the fact that she still slept him regularly. I think they call it hate sex?" he made quotation gestures with his hands, clearly confused by the idea. "Though," he admitted "I really don't understand the concept of "hate sex" if you hate the person I think someone would rather avoid said person instead of remaining in close physical proximity but no matter..." He trailed off. "Ah yes! The wife! It's always the wife I was careless and overlooked a minor detail..." He was silent for a bit, lost in thought again. "Oh well!" He clapped his hands together. "What's done is done. Alls well that ends well or whatever."

John did not move from his seat. He calmly sat and listened to his friend's rambling lifting his eyebrows higher with each word. Sherlock took his coat and scarf off and took his usual seat across from John. "Are you high?" John asked. Suspicion and worry tainting his pleasant features.

"No!" Sherlock spat, frankly offended by John's question. "What would lead you to that conclusion? You really shouldn't try to deduce me John you're rubbish at it." He remarked, waving his hand as if to bat away John's ridiculous assumption.

"You are acting strange. I'm calling Molly..." John stated, rising from his chair.

"I don't need a bloody drug test!" Sherlock shouted. John sat again, taken aback. Sherlock took a deep breath and steepled his hands under his chin.

"Now I'm definitely calling Molly and if you don't come with me to Saint Bart's right now I will phone Mycroft as well. What'll it be? Hmm?"

Ten minutes and a taxi ride later Sherlock and John were at Saint Bart's Hospital lab with Molly Hooper.

"Clean" she said proudly, taking of her purple medical gloves with a smile.

"I told him it was entirely unnecessary and his deduction skills are rubbish but does he listen?" Sherlock grumbled. Molly chuckled, tucking a fly away hair back into her ponytail.

"Is there anything else you boys needed? If not I have to get back to the morgue." John seemed to answer but Sherlock wasn't listening. He was distracted by Molly Hooper. Something was different about her.

Her hair was the same color and style. She wasn't wearing makeup besides her normal touch of mascara and neutral lipstick. Clothes were the same. Though he posture was better. She seemed... relaxed. Less nervous. Why? Then it hit him. Her stutter, it was gone. Her voice didn't shake. She didn't even hide her face from him like she normally did. He wanted to test his hypothesis.

"Wait, Molly?" Addressing her directly would surely make her stutter return. She stopped and turned. Her face showing no signs of unease or timidity. Curious.

"Yes?" She waited a moment, a little confused. "Sherlock?" He snapped out of it focusing his attention to her words instead of his thoughts. "Was there something else you needed?"

"Never mind. Unimportant. Come, John!" Sherlock was out the door before Molly could move. John and Molly shared a glance.

"I'll check the test again," she reassured him.

"Yep" he conceded, dashing after the detective before he could cause any trouble.

John and Sherlock spent the cab ride home in silence. John spared random glances at Sherlock, who didn't seem to be breathing. His eyes were closed and his hands were in the common position, pressed together under his chin. If he wasn't high he must be worried, John thought, really worried about something... it couldn't be John's recent marriage to Mary Morstan because Sherlock was quite found of her and her him. So why was the detective throwing himself into cases that were (for lack of a better term) dull.

"John, will you shut up. Your obnoxiously loud thought process is rather annoying." Sherlock groaned. John just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in defiance.

Sherlock's mood persisted for the rest of the week to John's dismay. After three days John called Mary. She didn't have to talk to him for more than five minutes when he confessed.

"Mummy wants all my 'friends' to come and stay at the house for the holiday..." Sherlock grunted, looking like a petulant child curled in a ball on his chair, arms crossed atop his bent legs.

Mary tried to hold it in but her laughter burst from between her fingers that covered her mouth. "Is that all!? Goodness Sherlock we thought you were ill!" Another wave of laughter swept her bring John along with it. Sherlock's evident disgust made them laugh even harder.

Once they calmed down John asked, "So who does is 'Mummy' inviting exactly?"

"Myself, Mycroft, You, Mary, Lestrade, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson."

Mary crossed the room and perched herself on the arm rest of Sherlock's chair, allowing her arm to drape across his shoulders. "Oh common Sherly, are you worried we're gonna embarrass you?" She gave a squeeze, shaking him slightly. The detective was not amused to say the least.

He shrugged her off and scooted further away from her grasp. "No!" He paused. "Quite the opposite. I'm going to bed." Sherlock swept across the room and just before slamming the door he yelled, "And DON'T CALL ME SHERLY!"

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**AN: Okay guys I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think, I really don't know where I'm going with this yet but I guess I will see where Sherlock takes me.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock hollered through the halls of 221B. He smiled when he heard Mrs. Hudson give a little yip in surprise in the kitchen below him. He knew she would make a fuss but he could never resist.

She scurried up the steps to find Sherlock sitting casually at the kitchen table his eye fixed on the specimen under his microscope. "Oh, goodness Sherlock, you gave me a fright! One of these days you'll scare the life out of me!" She said in a disapproving huff.

"Nonsense, Mrs. Hudson we both know you don't quite scare so easily…" he lifted his head to give a poignant glance. They both remembered the American men that had tussled with her. She gave a small smile knowing she was beaten.

Sherlock returned his attention to his experiment. "Mummy wanted to extend and invitation for you to stay with her and the Captain on the estate over the holiday."

"Oh that would be lovely, Sherlock, Violet and I go so far back but it's been so long!" Mrs. Hudson fretted. She missed her friend desperately. "But what about you Sherlock? I can't leave you here alone, with John being off with Mary and all…" She cooed.

"For the last time, Mrs. Hudson, I am a grown man and am fully capable of caring for myself," Sherlock stated matter of factly. "But that is beside the point because I will be accompanying you. John and Mary will be there as well, along with Detective Inspector Lestrade and Dr. Hooper."

"Oh that sounds delightful, Sherlock! Your mum is going to be so happy to see you, dear! Do you want me to fix you a cuppa and a few biscuits?" Sherlock grunted in reply.

Mrs. Hudson busied herself around the kitchen humming a cheerful tune. Normally this particular human habit of humming drove him mad but he had always had a spot for Mrs. Hudson. He was sure this feeling was completely attributed to the affection his mother had for the woman and not any type of feeling on his part.

The next day John and Sherlock arrived at Scotland Yard after receiving a call from Lestrade. "Freak's here!" Shouted Sgt. Donovan, her hands planted on her hips and a sneer painting her face. "Lovely to see you as always Sally." Sherlock replied not even sparing her a glance. Lestrade waved them into his office. His desk was covered in pictures of a dead business man, CEO by the look of his clothes and how grand the office he was killed in. His throat was slit, no weapon, nothing on the security cameras.

"Dull!" Sherlock groaned after looking at the images for less than a minute. "Arrest the night watch security guard, he would have had access to the cameras, you will find the blue fibers match the uniform, he's overweight and his wife is cheating on him." Sherlock finished, more preoccupied with the grime under his finger nails than the case he just solved. "Oh and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes request your presence over the holiday, they wish for my 'friends' (he made a face, using air quotes yet again) to stay for the holidays."

"Mr. and Mrs. Holmes…?" Lestrade questioned incredulously.

"Yes." The detective dead panned.

"Like your mum and dad…?" His mouth still hanging open.

"Yes, Lestrade! My bloody parents! I thought it was perfectly clear who Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were, do pay attention!"

"Alright! Keep your trousers on!" Lestrade said putting his hands up in surrender. "I'll go, just tell me when we're leaving."

"A car will pick you up Thursday afternoon." Sherlock said making his way out the door.

"Alright then, thanks for your help!" Lestrade called after the duo. With his face in his hand he leaned on the desk. He looked up to see Sgt. Donovan in the doorway, a questioning look on her face.

"What was the freak on about this time?"

"It seems I'm to be spending the holiday with the Holmes family…" He replied still not fully comprehending what he just agreed to.

With one person left on his list Sherlock decided to get it over with sooner rather than later. Sherlock crashed through the doors of the lab at St. Bart's hospital making Molly jump.

"Sherlock, John? What's happened? Is everything alright?" She shifted her eyes between the two men knowing something was amiss. Ever since John made her run that drug test she had been carefully monitoring Sherlock's moods. This time he seemed… antsy, if she didn't know better she would say he was nervous. Judging by the fidgeting of his hands and the inability to look her in the eye.

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong." Sherlock replied stiffly while moving to look into the microscope beside her that contained his ongoing experiment on the coagulation of saliva after death.

Molly was not convinced but she went about her business, filling out and filing paperwork. Out of the corner of her eye she saw John nudge Sherlock and whisper to him furiously. At this rate she was going to have John tested as well. Another few moments passed when Molly was started by a muffled slap and a complaining groan, John had rolled up what seemed to be a magazine and swatted the detective in the back of the head with it. When John noticed Molly watching in shock he quickly hid the weapon behind his back.

"Okay, I don't know what's going on with you two but you better fess up now or I'll kick you out." John looked smugly at Sherlock. "Both of you." She clarified, clearly including John in her threat.

"Just spit it out, you tosser. Or I will," John threatened his friend. Sherlock merely crossed his arms and grunted in refusal. "Fine, have it your way then. Molly, Sherlock's mum invited us all to their estate for the Christmas holiday and he is supposed to extend that invitation to you as well."

"Oh." Molly's eyes widened. "I don't have to come. Clearly you aren't too keen on the idea Sherlock, and I don't want to be a bother. Tell Mrs. Holmes thanks though." She said shyly, looking down at her hands.

When she dared to look up she met Sherlock's questioning gaze. "You wouldn't be a bother! I am rather concerned about being bother_ed_. You have met Mycroft and myself. And I can promise you the rest of my family is not any better behaved than we are. Besides, Mummy would be very cross if she did not get to properly thank "the saint of a woman" who housed me while I was "playing dead" were to not be in attendance." John began to chuckle at Sherlock's growing habit of using air quotes but choked when hearing the tail end of Sherlock's speech.

John made a series of unintelligible noises, his eyes shifting between the pathologist and the world's only consulting detective. Molly blushed. "Alright then. I'll be there then." She smiled at Sherlock who was still looking at her.

"Splendid." He clapped, grabbing his coat of the back of the chair. "I will text you the information and a car will be picking you up on Thursday. Good day, Doctor Hooper." And he was out the door. It took John an additional couple of seconds to recover but he retreated to the door to follow his friend when he called behind him, "We will talk about this later, yeah?"

Molly sighed, seeing no point an argument.


End file.
